Hard Reality (Notus Motorcycle Club Book 5)

by Debra Kayn

  Once out on the cross street, he rode out to Lombard, past the tattoo parlor, the Mexican restaurant, Jiffy Lube, and Taco Bell. The ornamental cherry trees lining the sidewalk were fully grown now and not a twig tied between two stakes. A light rail track—that was new— ran down the middle of the street, forcing him to ride farther to the right to keep his tires out of the dip.

  Highly aware of his passenger, he was glad to know she hadn't lied about riding before. She held on to his belt at the sides and kept space between her body and his back. Even with her confidence being on the back of his motorcycle, she tightened her hold every time a car approached from one of the side streets.

  At the intersection, he stopped, putting his boots on the asphalt. So far, he hadn't found any riders, only a couple of knock-off bikes with no colors claiming they rode under an organized club.

  The lack of Komoon riders around wasn't surprising. He understood how they worked and being in another motorcycle club's territory pushed them into using the evening and night hours to do their dirty work. He'd been one of them in the past, going after ex-members who had no loyalty. He knew what to expect.

  Gracie's hand came off him, and she straightened her arm, pointing ahead. "If you ride around the block and come up in the alley, we can park by the back door."

  He nodded and accelerated with the green light. Her arms tightened around him. There was no reason for Gracie to stay home and watch over him now that he'd agreed to stay in St. John's to get rid of the Komoon member with the help of Notus.

  He pulled into the alley and parked. The bar was Gracie's world. She would return to working, hanging out with Notus, and be able to stop wearing the damn purse at her side.

  Knowing he struck fear in her, he got off the motorcycle the moment Gracie slid off the seat. One day soon, he'd ride out of St. John's, leaving nothing of himself behind but taking even more back with him. It was a crux of his lifestyle and one only alcohol numbed.

  Gracie opened the back door of Vavoom's Bar with a key. The yeasty smell inside hit him hard. His hands shook as he waited while she locked the door, and he looked around. There were cases of alcohol sitting all around the small area and down the hallway.

  "Ready?" asked Gracie.

  He motioned for her to lead the way. Was she tempting him to order a drink with lunch so she could run back to Notus and snitch him out?

  A woman wearing an apron rushed toward Gracie and engulfed her in a hug. He stood back and looked into the kitchen. An older man raised his hand in greeting to him, and he lifted his chin. One waitress. One cook.

  Gracie turned toward Rich. "Maureen, this is Rich."

  "Welcome to Vavoom's." The pretty woman held out her hand.

  He ignored the pleasantry, not wanting to know more people.

  Maureen smiled choosing to ignore his rudeness and said, "Let me guess...cheeseburger and fries?"

  He looked at Gracie and shrugged. Food was food. It didn't matter what he ate. He'd lived on thrown-together sandwiches and whatever he could make at the clubhouse back in Klamath when he remembered to eat. Most of the time, he drank. The liquid filled him, and the alcohol kept him from remembering he was hungry.

  Maureen walked into the kitchen and spoke with the guy at the grill. Gracie motioned him to follow, and he walked through a swinging door into the main room of the bar. Four customers sat at two booths.

  "You can sit there. It's where Notus members sit when they come in." Gracie lowered her hand from pointing. "I'm going to go talk to Peyton in the kitchen. I'll be back in a few minutes."

  She walked away and stopped a couple of yards away from him. "Don't leave without me, okay."

  He tilted his head. Why the fuck would she think he'd desert her?

  "Go about your business. I'll be here," he said.

  She nodded and scurried away. He gritted his teeth and slid into the bench seat. Tapping his thumb against the table top, he looked around the place. Same walls, same layout, same one-way windows looking out on Lombard Street. The only thing different was the few tables scattered in the middle of the room and the colors inside changed from gray to white and red. Even the Little League pictures of the teams sponsored by Vavoom's over the years remained on the wall.

  He counted the frames. There were a lot more added than he remembered and he found himself out of the booth and across the room, searching the first few pictures. He found the team he remembered. He and Wayne, Thad, Glen, Chuck in sixth grade—must've been twelve years old or so— and took up the back row of kids in the photo, bookended by two coaches he couldn't remember their names.

  None of them smiled. They had their game face on, and their skinny chests popped out. He straightened the crooked frame. It was the last year they'd played team ball. Once they turned thirteen years old, they discovered girls provided more competition and home runs meant something entirely different than running around bases.

  "We left all the pictures up when we bought the bar." Gracie stepped closer to him. "Since you grew up here, you probably know some of the kids in the older photos. I think they go back to the year nineteen-sixty-eight." She pointed to the last picture. "This year's team came in second place in the league. We closed the bar for a couple of hours and let them have their awards ceremony here...on the house. The boys ate a lot of burgers for their size. We, Clara and me, had fun with them. They were curious about twins."

  He glanced at Gracie. That'd been the longest conversation she'd started with him.

  "They're twelve-year-old boys. You're a woman," he stated. "They'd be curious regardless if you were twins or not. You're a beautiful woman."

  She ducked her chin. Seeing her embarrassment, he tapped the second picture in front of him. "That's us."

  Gracie looked at him twice, then stepped closer to the picture, studying the photo. After a good sixty seconds went by, she said, "I had no idea Notus played for Vavoom's as little boys." She ran her finger over the glass on the frame. "Is that you?"

  He nodded.

  "You were a cute boy," she said without looking at him.

  He ran his hand down the side of his whiskers. The years when he was baby-faced and wrinkle-free seemed too long ago, yet he could remember what it felt like to sprint across a field and the vibration of the aluminum bat in his hands after hitting the ball.

  Gracie turned around. "Our food is done."

  He followed her back to the booth. The last thing he wanted was a meal. He needed to figure out a way to get a drink. Just one drink. Something to take the edge off.

  Chapter 16

  Gracie's lunch with Rich passed in comfortable silence, safely surrounded by customers in the bar. Surprised to have consumed almost the whole hamburger and half her fries, She wiped her mouth off with the napkin. Most of the last fifteen minutes were spent rejoicing in the fact he'd shared a part of himself by pointing out the members of Notus in the Little League picture.

  He'd connected with the others.

  He'd connected with his past.

  Most of all, she was able to share that connection with him by bringing him to the bar. It was one of the first good things she'd done since living with Rich.

  She'd have to show Clara the picture the next time they were at the bar together. Over four years of owning the bar, dusting the pictures on cleaning day, neither one of them had noticed the bikers as children in the picture. None of the members of the club had ever talked about being on the Vavoom's baseball team together as children, either.

  She couldn't wait to tell Wayne that she got the information —no matter how insignificant it was to her finding out why Rich had left St. John's.

  Rich gazed around the room, already finished with his meal. Gracie set her napkin on her plate and scooted out of the booth. "I'm going to carry the dishes to the kitchen, so Maureen doesn't have to, and then we can go."

  "I'm going to take a piss." He stood.

  She motioned her chin to the back of the room. "Go ahead and use the employees' private bathroom at
the end of the hallway, and I'll meet you at the back door."

  As soon as Rich walked out of sight, Maureen hurried over to her. Caught unprepared for the rush of excitement coming from her employee and friend, she stumbled to keep her balance as Maureen danced in front of her and whispered, "New boyfriend? You didn't say a thing. Is that why you've been away from the bar? Tell me everything? Is he good to you? What's he do for a living? Where did you meet him? Are you in love?"

  Apparently, Clara hadn't informed everyone what was happening with Notus Motorcycle Club with the return of Rich.

  Gracie laughed, shaking her head. "Slow your roll, girl."

  "I can't. This is so exciting." Maureen covered her cheeks with her hands. "Tell me everything."

  "Rich is a house guest. He's a friend of Notus Motorcycle Club. I'm only the host while he's here." Gracie snorted at Maureen's pout. "I'll be back at the bar like normal once he finds another place to stay."

  More than likely, Rich would leave town, breaking every heart of the men who belonged to Notus.

  "Are you leaving, girly?" called Peyton.

  Gracie turned around and peeked her head in the kitchen. "I am."

  "How are you doing?" Peyton raised his brows and silently questioned her. "Good?"

  "I'm good." She smiled, knowing Peyton worried about her. He'd been at the scene of her abduction and had patiently supported her ever since. "I'll be in soon. Make sure you call Clara or me if you need anything."

  Peyton lifted his spatula. "Always will."

  She looked for Maureen, but the waitress had already gone back to work. Gracie walked down the hallway and stood by the back door. Rich hadn't returned from the bathroom yet, and she looked around the small area, moving a box closer to the wall. At closing, the employees didn't need anything in their path to trip them on their way out the door.

  A few minutes later, Rich still hadn't come out of the bathroom. Not wanting to go knock and see if he was okay, she tapped her foot and looked at the door. The knob was unlocked. Positive she'd locked it on their way in, she opened the door and found Rich standing by his motorcycle. He'd gone outside without waiting for her.

  Using her foot to brace the door, she turned the security mechanism and stepped outside, pulling the handle toward her. Locked.

  Holding onto the purse at her side, she walked over to Rich. "I thought you were going to stay inside and wait for me."

  He grunted and sat on his bike, handing her the helmet and putting on his own. She made quick work of latching the D-ring and climbed onto the seat. Since he'd planned to go for a longer ride than a few blocks, she held on to his belt and relaxed to enjoy the ride.

  But, instead of taking her through St. John's or riding over the bridge and hitting Highway 30 to hit the open road, Rich rode straight back to the house. In the driveway, she slid off the motorcycle and was surprised that Rich shut off the Harley and toed the kickstand. He was coming back into the house.

  "I'm going to fiddle with my bike, and then I'll come in." Rich turned his back to her and bent over the engine.

  Disappointment swept through her. She stared at his ass and pursed her lips. She'd enjoyed getting out and having lunch with him. There was a comfort that came with being with a big, strong man that gave her a sense of security to be around others, even in her own bar.

  Turning away, she walked up to the door and stopped. There were marks on her door. Coldness flashed through her body despite the sunshine.

  She looked up at the camera hidden under the eave of the roof wondering why someone from Notus hadn't called to let her know someone had tried to break into her house.

  She needed to tell Rich, but her feet wouldn't move.

  The wood between the door handle and the doorframe was scarred with grooves, and the paint chipped off. Her chest constricted. Had someone made it into her house?

  She slid her hand into her purse and wrapped her fingers around the butt of the pistol.

  A hand landed on her back. She pulled her hand free and raised the pistol, facing Rich. Her fear only accelerated.

  He placed his hand around hers and lowered her arm and the weapon. "Gracie?"

  "The door." She panted through her open mouth. "Someone tried to break into my house."

  His gaze left her, and he frowned. "We're going to walk over to my motorcycle, and I'm going to take you over to Wayne's house."

  He slowly let go of her, despite the urgency of the situation. When she lowered her hand holding the pistol to her side, he guided her back to the driveway. At the bike, he took her helmet from her and latched the strap while gazing everywhere but at her. Her legs shook. If she'd been alone, what would she have done?

  "Who did that?" Her chin trembled.

  "I'll find out." He took her pistol from her hand and slipped the weapon into her purse. "You need to hold on to me."

  "O-okay." She nodded. "I need to breathe."

  "Yeah, honey. Keep breathing. I'll have you safe at Wayne's house in five minutes."

  Her fear that someone was around every corner and in every shadow haunted her every single day. How she managed to get clear in front of her door before noticing anything wrong scared her. She should've been more attentive.

  Situated behind Rich on the motorcycle, he patted her lower leg and then pulled out of the driveway. Her heart pounded, suddenly feeling vulnerable when twenty minutes ago, she'd felt secure riding with Rich. Cars were bigger, and as she knew, could cause accidents. On the Harley, cars could cause her death. Rich's death.

  Rich's hand landed on her leg again and patted. Her arms went around his waist, and she made herself smaller against him. He was a biker. He was a member of Notus. The other men loved him. She clung because being alone was scarier than being with him.

  Her sister and Wayne's house appeared in front of her. Rich unclasped her hands from around his waist, and she slid off the bike and ran toward the front door. Not waiting for her sister, she tried the handle and found it locked.

  She banged on the door. "Clara?"

  A burst of adrenaline burst out of her, and she shook the door handle, desperate to get inside.

  The door opened, and Clara reached for her. She launched herself into her sister's embrace.

  Clara squeezed her. "What's wrong?"

  "Someone." She gasped. "Tried to—"

  "Someone tried to break into her house," said Rich. "I brought her here until I can make sure her place is safe. Where can I look at the recordings from the cameras at her house."

  "Uh, in the garage. I'll call Wayne. He's at Thad's house." Clara moved Gracie into the house.

  "Don't bother," said Rich.

  "Shit," mumbled Clara pulling away from Gracie without letting her go. "Sit down, sis. I need to call Wayne before he hears this from someone else and flips."

  She sat down on the couch and grabbed the folded blanket draped over the back and hugged it to her stomach. No longer able to convince herself that it was safe to be around Rich, she shook.

  This wasn't supposed to happen to her again. The man who killed her mother and attempted to kill her was dead. A serial killer dead at the hands of Notus Motorcycle Club. That act of justice permanently instilled trust in each of the members.

  But, Wayne, Thad, Glen, and Chuck had put Rich in her house, and she was in danger, again.

  Whether the threat came from Rich or a stranger, she had no idea.

  Chapter 17

  Rich shut down the computer on Wayne's desk in the garage. The son of a bitch from Komoon wasn't going to stop coming after him.

  Cross had gone too far the moment he put his hand on Gracie's door. To come after him was one thing. He would not let Cross harm a woman.

  He walked out of Wayne's garage and into the house, finding Gracie with her sister in the living room. Cross's job to take him out wouldn't be stopped because there was a woman around him. Komoon Motorcycle Club had no honor system. They'd kill a man or woman and turn around and party as if it was a celebration.

/>   Clara said, "I called Wayne."

  Knowing it was Gracie's sister, he ignored her and faced Gracie on the couch. "You okay?"

  She stared back without answering, but he could tell she connected with him. She hadn't checked out over her fright.

  Now that he had his motorcycle, he needed time to take care of the problem himself or be killed trying. Either way, Cross would be gone from St. John's and nobody would be hurt.

  "I need your keys." He held out his hand.

  Gracie reached into her purse and handed the keys to him.

  "Stay here." He then looked at Clara. "Make sure she stays inside."

  "Where are you going?" asked Clara reaching over and slipping her fingers into Gracie's hand.

  "Out." He walked to the door. "Lock up behind me."

  Not waiting for a reply, he strolled outside and got on his motorcycle. Cross would stick around Gracie's townhouse waiting for him to return. His ex-MC brother would want to see his reaction to the tormenting, or if Cross were successful in breaking in, he'd be inside the house waiting for him.

  He arrived on Gracie's street in record time and found Wayne and Thad headed toward the house coming from the opposite direction. "Fuck," he mumbled into the wind.

  Cross wouldn't go up against all of them unless the whole Komoon Motorcycle Club was here in St. John's—an impossibility. They'd send one guy, and if something happened with that member, they'd send another.

  Komoon Motorcycle Club stayed to themselves, ran the clubhouse, and only stepped out of their territory if they were going after one of their own.

  He pulled into the driveway and waited for the others to park. Once their helmets came off, he said, "I'm going in."

  "You looked at the recording," stated Wayne, walking beside him to the house.

  It wasn't a question. "One plus one is two. I needed answers. I got answers."

  He'd concluded that Notus protected Gracie as soon as he'd sobered up. A single woman, sister to the president's woman. He knew that Wayne had his hand in protecting his family.